


Day Eighteen: "I Can't See"

by OBlossom



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [18]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blindness, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Dr. Strange Needs a Bedside Manner, FebuWhump2021, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Endgame, Protective Laura Barton, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom
Summary: Sam leaned into Clint again, “Hey, Clint, we’re gonna lie you back down, okay?” He was already guiding him back to the ground. “Hang on.”The decreased ringing made the urgent call for a medic all the more clear. “Sam! What the hell is going on?” Clint was not normally one for panic, but the disruption to both his hearing and sight, plus the fact that he wanted so desperately for this to be over—he couldn’t help but sound scared.Sam kneeled now, beside Clint who was flat on his back, and leaned in. “Dude. Clint. It’s six o’clock in the evening. The sky is clear and the sun is about to set.”Clint moved his head back and forth, looking for clues to tell him that Sam was just messing with him—that Sam had a really sick sense of humour and thought that a concussed Clint would be an easy target.But he couldn’t find the clues—because he couldn’t bloody see.“Fuck.”
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Sam Wilson
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Day Eighteen: "I Can't See"

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to catch up! Aaargh! 
> 
> Anyways, here's another different one-- I'm pleased with it, in my exhausted 'what the heck have I done?' sort of way.
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> -Colleen xo

Day 18: “I can’t see”

The battle was an exercise in both beauty and devastation. 

Even has his fists and arrows flew, Clint could see everything.

Steve had been a beast, wielding Mjolnir as though he’d been born to carry it and was striking down the enemy with an unmatched fervor. Thor and Stormbreaker were glorious to watch as ozone and lightning sizzled through the air. Tony and Pepper—The way they moved together, as two people who knew and cherished every part of the other.

Clint’s thoughts brushed upon his Laura--

He was distracted from her when he felt the heat of red haze that was the essence of Wanda as she raged. She was terrifying in her fierceness. 

And then flying horses and rings of fire and aliens and a boy with a web and allies... so many allies. They’d all done their best to keep the gauntlet away from that purple scrotum, but there were so, so many.

The Wakandans had suffered significant losses on the battlefield, and Clint was certain he’d seen several of the sorcerers hit the ground and stay down. To say that the two sides were evenly matched would be a lie. 

The sky, already darkened by smoke and dust, grew darker still, but no one stopped to stare as a damned mothership entered orbit above them. They wouldn’t stop the fight until Thanos and all his minions were dead.

Suddenly, from somewhere in the upper atmosphere, a streak of light burst through the darkness and then literally burst through the hull of the ship. It was horrible and hopeful all at the same time. The ship was crashing, and Thanos’s ultimate advantage was gone.

With renewed optimism, the fight escalated and Clint found a path toward Tony and Thanos and their last stand. 

The monster had just finished his last, mad monologue, and raised his hand to snap... 

The look of confusion was epic, but then Clint and those around Tony realized his plan.

And Clint’s heart dropped.

Too many people had already died on that battlefield and Natasha Romanov who was the daughter of Ivan Romanov was gone and Tony had a bloody kid now! There was no way Tony was snapping his own. 

Already, Spider-Man—Peter was on Tony’s right, while the raccoon was at his left. The antenna lady had grabbed hold of its paw while Wanda and Thor clutched at her. Nebula... their Nebula hooked onto the boy’s hand. Clint ran those last feet, and as the words, “I am Iron Man” left Tony’s mouth, he wrapped himself around Tony’s core. 

No one else was going to die today.

Clint, and he was sure everyone else, felt rather than heard the snap, especially as he and those around Tony were saturated by the sheer power of the universe and all its enormity. His body vibrated with unharnessed potential and then, in the ultimate act of dissipation, a concussive blast exploded from the nanotech gauntlet, sending all those around the stones flying through the air.

And Clint knew no more.

* * * * * *

The ringing was what he noticed first. 

Well, he guessed it was time for a new hearing aid prescription anyways, and besides that—it was worth it.

He sat up cautiously. If the ringing ears hadn’t been the first clue that he’d gotten banged up, then the headache and nausea were dead giveaways. He was fine with that though. It wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last time. He simply kept his eyes closed while the dizziness passed, breathed slowly—smelled the smoke, dust, ash, and even blood in the air. 

He wished that Nat was there with him.

The dizziness passed eventually, and Clint opened his eyes. A large part of him wanted to see the ash and dust as it floated about in the light breeze that was almost caressing those remaining on the field. Another part of him was so tired of the dark and shadows.

It had been a long five years.

But it was too dark, when his eyes finally cleared. He could barely make out shapes in the haze.

How many enemies had there been?

The ringing was finally improving, thank goodness, and he noted the sound of commotion behind him. A hand rested on his shoulder and Clint shifted to see who it is, but it was still impossible. Only a dark silhouette stood before him. 

Finally, the shape crouched before him and spoke, “Are you okay?”

Yeah, maybe the ringing hadn’t improved as much as he’d hoped, but if he concentrated, he could put the sounds together over that awful monotonous tone.

“Yeah!” He yelled back to whoever this was. “Ears are messed up, but it’ll be better once my head clears!”

The shape moved towards him, but Clint was pretty sure he recognized who it was and wasn’t worried. It was confirmed when he spoke loudly beside Clint’s ear. “We’re gonna get you to a med bay to be sure, okay?” 

“Nah, Sam, save it for the folks that are actually hurt,” he joked, again loudly, then asked, “How’s Tony doin’?”

Sam leaned in again, the warm breath already starting to irritate Clint. Sam seemed to get that though. He kept the information brief. “He’s gone on to Wakanda but he’s alive.” 

Clint went to nod, but stopped himself as his balance wavered even as he sat.

“C’mon, Clint, let’s get you to a medic.” Sam grabbed Clint from under his arm and helped him up. “You can argue with them, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Clint replied. The ringing was continuing to improve, but—“Sam, can you shine a light for me? You may have your hero goggles on, but I can’t see for shit.”

Sam’s grip tightened. “What do you mean?” he said?

Confused by the question, Clint responded with, “I mean it’s dark? I have lived through a battle with an alien overlord, dude. I’d be really pissed if I tripped and broke my neck right after just ‘cause I couldn’t see where I was going. ”

Sam leaned into Clint again, “Hey, Clint, we’re gonna lie you back down, okay?” He was already guiding him back to the ground. “Hang on.”

The decreased ringing made the urgent call for a medic all the more clear. “Sam! What the hell is going on?” Clint was not normally one for panic, but the disruption to both his hearing and sight, plus the fact that he wanted so desperately for this to be over—he couldn’t help but sound scared.

Sam knelt now, beside Clint who was flat on his back, and leaned in. “Dude. Clint. It’s six o’clock in the evening. The sky is clear and the sun is about to set.”

Clint moved his head back and forth, looking for clues to tell him that Sam was just messing with him—that Sam had a really sick sense of humour and thought that a concussed Clint would be an easy target.

But he couldn’t find the clues—because he couldn’t bloody see. 

“Fuck.”

Sam moved closer again, “What’s wrong, man? Is something hurting?”

Clint shook his head, “No! I can’t see.”

Sam put his hands on either side of Clint’s face. “I know, Clint. Now stop moving your head, you idiot!”

The medics arrived then. Clint could hear them. He could hear them drop the spinal board beside him on the ground. Then heard them huff in frustration when he argued about the neck guards. “But I’ve already been moving!” He’d hollered at them.

Clint had lost the argument. Apparently having a head injury negated any input into medical decision making. 

Once secured on the board, the medics lifted Clint, and with a press of a button, his transportation was hovering above the ground. 

He had another moment of panic and threw his hand off the side of his board. “Wait! Sam?! Are you still here?” 

Sam’s gloved hand grasped his. “I’m here, man.”

“Sam, I can’t see,” he announced.

“I know.”

“Does the cool transport mean I’m heading to Wakanda?” he asked, afraid to say what he really wanted to say. 

“Of course,” Sam was leaning closer, “All the pains in the ass are heading there.”

Clint laughed. 

Sam tightened his hold on Clint’s hand.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Clint?”

His chin quivered, and he fought down tears, but he managed to keep it together. “I’m, uh.” He tried to pull in a calming breath. “I’m scared,” he choked out. “Please don’t leave me alone?” Dammit. He would not fall apart—he would not fall apart—he would not fall apart.

Sam squeezed his hand harder still and gave it a distracting shake. “Clint, I’m not goin’ anywhere until you tell me—or I find a better offer.”

Clint snorted at the unexpected tease. “A better offer? What the hell, man!”

Sam must have signalled the medics because he’d started moving then. “Yeah, I’m starving! I’d kill for a burger right now.”

Clint smiled. “Yeah, a burger sounds good right about now.”

“Well,” Sam continued. “I’m not sharing so you’re gonna have to find your own.”

Clint closed his eyes to a change in his vision—where he’d seen shades of grey, after a flash of brightness, he’d been left with black. “Sam?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. We just went through one of the wizards’ fire rings. We’re just outside of their medical facility and it’s night here so...”

“Okay.” Clint was feeling pretty tired all of a sudden. It wasn’t the concussion, he was pretty sure. He just needed to check out for a bit—so when Sam had looked away to talk to the receiving medic, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and did just that.

* * * * * * 

When he woke up again, he didn’t bother trying to open his eyes. He could feel the bandages wrapped around his head and knew there was no point.

On a positive note, the ringing in his ears had dulled enough that Clint was pretty sure he was hearing the ambient noise of the room. The beeping of the monitors was the clearest, but he thought that, if he tried hard enough, that he could hear the hissing sound of the blood pressure cuff inflating—maybe. It was good to dream, right?

He definitely heard the sound of papers rustling beside him, low compared to the bed. He remembered before the ring, and he hoped. “Sam?”

The rustling stopped with the placement of said papers on the bed beside his hand. “Yeah, Clint. I’m here.”

“What’s goin’ on with...” Every part of him wanted to yell ‘MY EYES! MY EYES!’ but it seemed that not knowing gave him a level of hope he was not willing to part with yet. “... the others?”

The chair squeaked as Sam leaned back in his chair. “Well, I can fill you in, but you have to stay calm or Dr. Strange will kick my ass outta here. Got it?”

Clint’s stomach dropped, but he’d committed so... “Got it.”

“Alright then, I’ll start with the good news first—the Guardians... the alien and the raccoon. They’re both doing alright. Apparently this wasn’t there first rodeo and the stones were feeling benevolent.”

Clint thought about that for a minute, turned it around in his brain and filed it away for later. For now, “That sounds strangely sentient of them?”

“Yeah, that’s what Dr. Strange thought, too, but they haven’t been able to talk to anyone else yet.” Sam paused, “You should expect to have a lot of people talking to you now that you’re awake, ‘cause you and the Guardians are it, so far.” 

“So far?” Clint’s heart sank, “Wanda?”

Sam laughed. “I should have known you’d want to know about her. Sorry that I didn’t think to start with her first.” 

“It’s all good, just tell me, please?”

“Well, it seems that Thor and Wanda are lucky as all hell, ‘cause they came out of that without a scratch. The doctors have checked everything and they’re both fine. Just sleeping... like really, really sleeping.”

Clint laughed at that. Wanda had been out to the farm several times before... well, before. He knew how much she appreciated a late morning and rosehip tea. 

And Thor? They’d all seen how much healing Thor had to do before the whole stone thing. It was no wonder he was taking a breather.

“And Tony... and the kid?” 

Clint could hear Sam trying to organize his thoughts as he fussed with his hands and shuffled his papers again. “Yeah. Tony and the kid.”

Suddenly, Clint didn’t want to know anymore. The sound of Sam’s voice sounded so sad and helpless. 

Clearing his throat, Clint croaked out, “Is it bad?”

Sam pushed himself up out of his chair, the feet scarping harshly against the linoleum floor. “Well, the kid is...” He must have run his hand down his face. “He’s running a pretty high fever right now and with his freaky DNA, the doctors aren’t sure if it’s the radiation messing with his DNA or his DNA fighting the radiation. He’s fighting though, and Dr. Cho is overseeing his care.

“And Tony?” 

“Well, I’m not gonna sugar coat it for you. They’re currently amputating Tony’s arm. The power of the stones was distributed pretty evenly between every one of you idiots, but Tony’s arm was still the conduit. They couldn’t save it without risking radiation poisoning and the nerves were too damaged for him to use it again anyways.”

Wow. What do you say to a team report like that?

“Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly. Now, Do you need a minute? I get it if you do, but don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re avoid the elephant in the room.”

“There’s an elephant in the room?”

“You’re not funny, Clint.”

“Really? I think I’m hilarious.”

Sam groaned out loud and sat back in his chair. “Why do you damned superheroes keep forcing me into therapist Sam mode?” Sam snapped. “I’d tell you to sit your ass down and listen to me, but well, you know...”

“Sam...”

“Nope. I’m going to head out and grab Dr. Strange so he can explain what’s going on so you can get your head in the game and make a plan. Got it? Yeah? Good.” And he walked to the door. 

Clint heard the footsteps and panicked. He said he wouldn’t leave! “Sam!?”

He guessed that Sam heard the panic and rushed back. “I’m right here, Clint.” He clasped his hand in Clint’s. “I wasn’t leaving—just standing at the door to call Dr. Strange over. I promise. I’m still here.” 

Clint nodded his head frantically, “Okay, okay. I’m good. We’re good.”

He felt Sam squeezing his hand, grounding him. “You are, buddy. Just breathe.”

He pulled in a shaky breath, and then another. 

He was just starting to calm himself when he heard another voice from the door, “Mr. Barton. Is this a good time to talk?”

He jumped at the unexpected observer to his anxiety. “I don’t know. Who are you?”

“My apologies,” the man entered the room without invitation. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, and I’ve been your primary physician. I heard that you were awake and thought you’d like to discuss your prognosis.”

To be honest, Clint didn’t know if he was ready and said as much. “After hearing about Tony and the kid, I’m feeling like I’m due for karmic retribution or something.”

Dr. Strange shook his head. “I know all about karma, Mr. Barton and this isn’t it. All I see is a man who was grieving, trying to find a way to go forward. And when he was given a chance to help set it right, he did—AND helped to save the life of one of his teammates and half the universe.”

Clint turned his face away from him.

“Very well, then. Let’s talk about your condition, shall we?”

Clint didn’t answer.

Dr. Strange sighed and pressed. “If you’d prefer, we can bring your wife in while we have our conversation.”

That got a reaction out of him. His head spun to face his visitors. “Laura’s here?”

Sam jumped in there. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t really want to see my ugly mug here once they figured out how to fix things, and we had all these wizards doing their fire ring thing so, ya’ know. I got them to bring your wife. Now, do you want me to bring her in so the good doctor can explain? I hadn’t wanted to freak you out before but now you know so...” 

“Yes! Please?!” After five long years he could see...

Oh. 

“Wait! Don’t—“ Clint called out, but it was too late. 

He knew the moment she entered the room. Her steps carried a softness and power that he recognized from long nights walking colicky babies and canning tomatoes in the kitchen. He could even smell her hair as the air caught wisps of her sunshine and strawberries. “Laura,” he whispered, even as his hand sought her out instead of Sam.

She was beside him in a second. “Clint.” She murmured softly as she placed kiss after kiss on his forehead. “You silly man! Don’t you dare think of trying to leave me like this again, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He answered. He’d never defy her—ever.

“Now, I was standing out there in the hallway listening to you be difficult about your own diagnosis, Clint. You know the deal, honey. We can’t fight the battle if we don’t know who the enemy is, so can we please get on with this so I know if I have to worry or join another support group.”

Clint shook his head and chuckled.

From the corner, Sam called out, “What kind of support group do you belong to now, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“It’s a small organization. You probably haven’t heard of it.” Laura replied. “It’s called D.A.H.A.”

Sam made a confused sound. “Which is?”

She smiled big. “Dumb Ass Husbands Anonymous.”

Sam snorted, making Clint smile bigger. “Hey, man! She’s not just a card carrying member, she’s the president!” he called out to the room.

The room erupted in laughter and it took a couple of minutes for it to finally settle. 

Clint heard the sound of rustling cloth and a clearing throat, and tried to picture Dr. Strange. He was the one who’d been wearing the red cape, right? 

“Well, if we’re all ready, I’d like to talk about what is going to happen in a couple of minutes.”

“Minutes?!” Clint blurted out. “What?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton, minutes. You see, you slept for a very, very long time. Because of that, we were able to perform all of the necessary tests to determine the cause of damage to your eyes.”

Clint cocked his head, “So you know if I’ll be able to see or not when we take the bandages off, right?”

“Unfortunately, no. The stones have left all of you with some sort of repercussions to deal with. Yes, some of you have been able to sleep it off and be done with it, but it’s been nearly impossible to get a true diagnosis for any of the injured that were within the stone’s blast radius. 

“In fact, we can’t determine whether it was the radiation from the stones or the getting knock out when you were all blasted back that caused your blindness. Either way it required repair—and we’ve done it.”

Laura took the reins then. “Repaired it, how?”

Dr. Strange could only smile. “I believe Clint has had some experience with this tool? Dr. Cho calls it the cradle?”

Clint cringed as he thought of Laura’s distaste for the technology, but she passed the concern right by.

“When will we know if it worked,” she asked.

“Right away. We simply need to remove the bandages and it will either have worked or not.” 

Laura pulled her hand from his to get out of the way. “Well, let’s get to it and see what we’re working with, shall we?”

“Whoa! Hang on a second here! What if I’m not ready?!”

She gripped his hand tightly and leaned closer to talk to just him. “I’m not sure what you need to be ready for, Clint. It’s like ripping off a bandage, okay. We’ll count 1-2-3 and boom. There’s seeing Clint again or, if the universe totally sucks, there’s not seeing Clint! We’ll deal with whatever’s thrown our way, like we always do.” She kissed his forehead, and then pressed another against his cheek. “You’ve got this... we’ve got this.”

Clint wanted to believe that. Honestly, but...

Sam piped up. “Hey, Dr. Strange, why don’t you show me where that magical coffee machine is. I could sure use a cup. How about you?”

“I’m more of a tea drinker myself but...”

Clint was sure there was all of that expressive eye garbage happening and he wasn’t dealing with that. “Dr. Strange, Sam would like for you to vacate so that my wife and I can talk about how ridiculous I’m being.” 

“Oh,” the man said. “Why didn’t you just say so?” And the two men walked loudly out into the hallway.

Laura, being as pragmatic as always, poked a finger into Clint’s chest and hissed. “You’d better explain what’s going on in that ridiculous brain of yours, buddy, because I’m already over extra people listening in on you and I bickering. We’re always a team, have been forever!”

He pressed back into the bed and raised his hands in surrender, “Hey! I’m not doing this on purpose honey—I promise! It’s just... I just...”

She softened as she watched him struggle. She grasped his hand, brought it to rest over her heart, leaned forward to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Clint, we can’t fix it if I don’t know.”

Clint ripped his hand away, “That’s the thing! WE can’t fix it! I did this to myself! I earned this—“

Laura grabbed his hand again, held on even tighter. “Tell me so I understand! I love you, Clint Barton, so start talking!”

He fought the words for a minute and then—“Laura, honey! I haven’t seen a good real thing in five years. My memories of you and the kids are of ashes in the wind. I didn’t know if I had to collect them—and nearly lost my mind when you all blew away.” He drew in a deep breath and continued, “I’ve murdered, Laura. Bad men, yes, but I played judge, jury and executioner. If you... all of you were gone, why were they allowed to go on?! I needed to find a balance, and in doing so, I became a monster!” His chest heaved as he confessed.

“Clint, honey, no...” Laura tried to calm him.

But Clint continued, edging on hysterical. “I saw Nat die, Laura. She was my best friend and my last sight of her is broken on a god-forsaken planet that I’ll never see again... and it should have been me!

“And then we fixed it, all of it, for two glorious minutes... and I heard you, Laura! And I thought I could be happy because the world was made right...” He felt tears soak his dressings, but he didn’t care. “And the battle, please... all my eyes have seen is death and chaos for so long—and I’m so scared that this is the universe making me pay! Sam said the stones were sentient, and I felt them inside of me! What if I was judged and this is my punishment?!” He pulled his hand from hers once more and covered his face. “I can’t...”

Laura said nothing as Clint lay in his bed, grieving. She brushed her fingers tenderly through his hair as she hummed the lullaby she’d sing to their children when they couldn’t sleep. When he’d finally calmed—“Whatever the universe decides, sweetheart...” she breathed out next to his ear. 

Ever so carefully, she pulled at the edges of the rolled gauze and brought it away from his face. She pressed a kiss to each of his still covered eyes, and then removed the gauze with a gentleness only Clint and their beautiful children knew in her.

She moved so she was hovering above him, blocking out the harshness of any light. Her hair fell around his face like a shield.

“Clint,” she whispered, “Open your eyes.”

And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da!
> 
> Day Eighteen


End file.
